Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  Kim Mitchell was standing opposite, a respectful few steps away. She clasped her hands professionally in front of her and shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she waited patiently for her boss to say something.

  Five minutes earlier, she had entered his office without knocking, distracted by the urgency of her message. He had a video call waiting for him. She had stayed with him as he took it, knowing he would need her once he was finished.

  The call was from GlobaTech’s liaison with the Royal Thai Armed Force. He was sitting behind a makeshift desk in the hangar of an airfield. The connection was unstable, which distorted the image, but Buchanan saw commotion behind him. The sound intermittently dropped in and out, but enough of the message came through.

  The unit Buchanan had securing the warehouse in Cambodia had been attacked and killed by unknown forces. He had played the last feed received from the unit commander on a screen-in-screen feed. It showed them coming under attack. It wasn’t clear from the commander’s viewpoint where the attack came from. Within two minutes, the feed had dropped and fallen to the side as the commander was shot and killed. A moment after that, the sole of a boot had stomped on the camera, ending the video.

  Buchanan had told his liaison to take point on the investigation, to lead a unit of Thai forces into the region and call every fifteen minutes with an update.

  The call ended, and he had stood in silence ever since.

  Kim waited to hear what he needed from her, but she knew he was taking this hard. She had been the personal secretary to Josh Winters previously, and she had adored him for the fact that he never let his position deter him from getting involved in the work GlobaTech was doing. Sometimes, he was too involved. He could have easily distanced himself from the day-to-day stuff, locked himself in board meetings, and collected a seven-figure salary. But he hadn’t. He had personally commanded an elite unit that risked their lives on his word to make the world a better place. When Moses Buchanan had stepped into that role, he had very much continued Josh’s legacy, and she adored him for that too.

  It just meant that, in situations like this, he couldn’t help but hold himself accountable.

  Finally, he looked up at her. His eyes were heavy with the burden of guilt. “I’m gonna need you to—”

  His landline started to ring, interrupting him. He reached for it, but Kim stopped him.

  “Let me handle it,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll take a message.”

  She answered but didn’t get chance to speak. The voice on the other end began relaying their reason for calling. She nodded along, waiting for an opportunity to talk.

  “Okay… I understand… just let me…” She sighed. “Jericho, will you shut up for a minute?”

  She raised her voice, startling Buchanan. The line fell silent.

  “Thank you. Let me pass you over.” She held the receiver out toward Buchanan. “It’s Jericho.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” he replied, reaching for the phone.

  “He sounds stressed.”

  “Great…” He placed the phone to his ear and turned to stare out of his window. “Jericho, now isn’t the best time. I need good news, or I need a break.”

  On the other end, Jericho cursed himself for not considering what else might be happening in his boss’s world, despite his own situation.

  “What’s wrong, sir?”

  Buchanan sighed. “Nothing. Bad day at the office. What do you need?”

  “Well, we’ve got a situation here. I… Are you sure you have the time for this? I can always—”

  “What do you need, Jericho?” he said, his tone hardening.

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “We just got hit.”

  Buchanan turned, staring at Kim as if doing so would help share the surprise. “What? Are you hurt? Is Fisher okay? What about Hyatt?”

  Jericho smiled to himself. That’s what he admired most about his superior. When shit hit the fan, he always ensured his employees were okay before he asked about the job.

  “We’re all fine. Jules took a bad knock, but she’s okay. There were six of them. They got the drop on her in the hotel lobby. They came up to the room looking to take me out and leave with Hyatt.”

  “Goddammit. Any idea who they were?”

  “Yes. They were Mexican. Members of the Cortez cartel. The same group who took Hyatt’s daughter. The same group we shot the hell out of the other day.”

  “How in the blue hell did they find out where you were?”

  “Good question. One I intend asking when this asshole wakes up.”

  “You’ve got one of them?”

  “There were two left alive after the skirmish, sir. I’ve brought one of them to my room. I had to hit him again, so I’m just waiting for him to come around.”

  “Are you not relocating?”

  “No, I think it’s better to stay here until morning. I don’t want to risk a mobile firefight, should we leave. I’ve no idea if these assholes who hit us had back-up. At least here, we’re now surrounded by police.”

  “Makes sense,” nodded Buchanan. “What about Hyatt?”

  “Hyatt’s with me too. Jules is resting up. I hate to ask, but could you…”

  “…smooth things over with Montreal PD? Yeah, no problem.”

  “Thank you. I’ll liaise with them as soon as I’m done here. There are a lot of bodies and bullet holes that need explaining and scared guests that need reassuring. It’s gonna be a long night. Sir, I know this is a shit-storm you don’t need right now. I take full responsibility, and you can reprimand me when all this is over.”

  Buchanan smiled to himself. “At ease, soldier boy. Just finish the job and get your asses home safe. I’ll make sure the cops work with you, not against you.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  Buchanan terminated the call and handed the receiver back to Kim.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  He took a moment to think, glancing at the blank monitor as he processed everything that had just happened. Finally, he said, “I need you to push everything on my schedule back a couple of days. I don’t want any more calls unless it’s Jericho or our guy on the ground in Cambodia. I also need to speak with the director of the Montreal Police, so I can explain away Jericho’s latest attempt at foreign diplomacy.”

  Kim let slip a small smile. “Right away, sir.”

  She turned to leave, but Buchanan called after her. “Oh, one more thing, Kim.”

  She glanced back as she reached the door. “Yes?”

  “Get a hold of Collins for me, would you? I’ve a feeling Jericho and Fisher are gonna need all the help they can get.”

  She nodded and left, leaving Buchanan alone in his office. He sat heavily in his chair, resting his head in his hand as he leaned on the arm of it.

  The airport remained busy, despite the late hour. Collins stood in a short line for the ticket booth and checked his watch. Velasquez had told him she would message him the details of his target, including the location, once he was at the airport, but as yet, he had received nothing.

  He shuffled forward.

  “You’re cutting it fine, Patty,” he muttered to himself.

  No sooner had he spoken, his cell phone began to ring. He didn’t realize it was his at first because technically, it wasn’t. His had been destroyed when Victor and his boys had picked him up earlier that day. This was the phone that Velasquez had given him.

  He took it out and answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “You took your time,” said Velasquez impatiently. “You’re not busy, are you?”

  “I’m in the line at the airport,” he replied, refusing to rise to any bait. “Where am I going?”

  “I’ve just sent you the details. When you land, a mutual friend will meet you. He’ll help you secure the right tools for the job.”

  Collins frowned. “But I thought ya said…”

  “I’m feeling generous. Don’t make me change my mind by tryi
ng to be charming or funny.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Our friend will also keep you company while you do the job. To make sure you don’t get lonely.”

  “Christ, Patty. I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”

  “Well, that’s not really your decision now, is it?”

  “Fine. Do ya want me to call when it’s done?”

  “That would be lovely, Ray. Would you mind?”

  The sarcasm wasn’t difficult to miss.

  “Not at all, Patricia. Bye for now.” He hung up. “Bitch…”

  He shuffled forward again, putting himself one person away from being served. He checked his messages and quickly read the name of the target, where he would find him, and where he needed to fly to.

  After a moment, he approached the desk. The woman behind it smiled at him admiringly. She had light brown hair tied up in a ponytail and wide, happy blue eyes.

  “Good evening, sir,” she began professionally. “Where are you flying to today?”

  Collins was quick to pick up on the attraction. It was something he counted himself blessed to be used to. He leaned on the counter and smiled.

  “Hey, darlin’, I need the next flight ya have to Halifax, Nova Scotia, if ya would?”

  She swooned at his accent as she tapped away on her keyboard. She checked his passport and his shoulder bag, then printed his ticket and boarding pass.

  “That’s gate fifteen,” she said. “Enjoy your flight.”

  He smiled politely. Courteous without being humorous. “Thanks, darlin’. It’ll be the trip of a lifetime, I’m sure.”

  He winked and walked away, not needing to look back to know she was watching him go.

  As he navigated the steady crowds, he took out his phone and looked over the details Velasquez had sent him once again. Then, satisfied they were committed to memory, he deleted them from the phone.

  “Well, Mr. Darius Silva…” he muttered, “I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but you’re about to have a very bad day.”

  14.

  September 27, 2019

  The pale morning light pushed through the vertical blinds hanging at Julie’s window. She sat cross-legged on her bed, dressed for the day, despite the early hour, in a fresh trouser suit. She had slept well after the events of the night before and felt rested enough to deal with whatever the new day had to throw at her.

  At the foot of her bed, Jericho paced back and forth across the room, like a caged animal impatiently waiting to be unleashed. Unlike his colleague, he hadn’t slept much, although he hadn’t really tried to. He had spent most of the night interrogating the cartel soldier he took to his room. He hadn’t known much, but Jericho had persuaded him to spill everything he did know anyway. Then he’d turned him over to the local authorities, who had quickly secured the hotel during the night, following the shootout. Buchanan had called to say he had spoken with the SPVM, and they would be extending them their full cooperation.

  Julie had already been down to the lobby that morning to speak with the police still on site, to give them GlobaTech’s official statement.

  Hyatt lay sprawled on the sofa beneath the window in Julie’s room, doing his best to stay awake but struggling against his own body’s primal urge to shut down.

  “So, what do we know?” asked Julie.

  “We know the cartel was hired by someone with a vendetta against Darius Silva,” said Jericho. “Someone who wants this shipment of his. And we don’t know how, but whoever it is also seems to know Hyatt is a factor—and a potential weak link in all this, which is why he’s now been targeted twice.”

  Julie nodded. “What do you think we should expect at the port?”

  Jericho shrugged. “After last night, who the hell knows? My gut says whoever’s hiring the Mexicans knows about the port, but they don’t know when exactly the shipment is arriving, or when and how it’s leaving. If they did, they wouldn’t be pursuing Hyatt so aggressively. If it were me, I’d have people in place all day today, morning till night.”

  “That makes sense. That’s been the main issue all along here—that we don’t know what we’re walking into once we arrive at the port.”

  “Well… hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right?”

  She arched a brow. “Since when did you subscribe to fortune cookie wisdom?”

  He smiled back. “Since this job turned into a grade one shit-show where people keep shooting at us.”

  “Well, this particular SNAFU aside, we need a plan going in.” She nodded toward Hyatt, who had drifted off to sleep again. “He’s not going to make things any easier. And Silva is a wildcard. We have no control over him or his actions. I suspect, should bullets start flying, he’ll care more about his precious shipment and his reputation than anyone in this room. If something happens and he retaliates, we’ll be dragged into a firefight whether we like it or not.”

  “I agree,” said Jericho tersely. “I’m beginning to lose my patience with Darius Silva and his goddamn shipment. He’s dragging Hyatt and us into his mess, yet we’re the ones working our asses off to clean it up. It’s bullshit.”

  “I know, but tolerating that asshole is a necessary evil if we want to make sure that little girl sees her daddy again.”

  “Yeah, you’re right…” He stopped pacing. “We should get to the port as early as possible. Like, right now. Minimize the chance of anyone getting the drop on us.”

  “Sounds like a plan, big guy.” She jumped to her feet and walked around the bed, stopping in front of Hyatt. He was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, low on the sofa, with his head lolled back against the cushions. He was breathing slowly. She watched him for a moment and then gently kicked his leg. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

  He jumped in his seat, startled. His eyes snapped wide open.

  “Huh? What? Don’t hurt me!”

  She chuckled as he calmed down, slowly realizing his surroundings. “Not a real big moment for you there, huh?”

  He seemed unfazed by any potential embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Relax, Mr. Hyatt. We need to get ready to move, okay?”

  He struggled to his feet, stifling a yawn. “I thought we were flying out later today? Why so early?”

  “We’re compromised here,” said Jericho. “There’s no point staying any longer than we need to. I’ll take you to your room, so you can get your things. My colleague will make sure the plane is ready ASAP. We need you to get in touch with your client and tell him the change of plans.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea… Mr. Silva prefers to stick to his schedule. He won’t appreciate having it changed on such short notice.”

  “Well, luckily for us,” said Julie. “I don’t give a—”

  “What my colleague means,” interjected Jericho, “is that your client needs to understand he’s not as in control of this situation as he might like to think. He needs to trust us and, for once, just do what he’s told.”

  Hyatt thought for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll make the call.”

  “I appreciate that. Just tell him to get there ASAP. Nothing else.”

  As they headed for the door, Jericho stared at Julie, silently questioning her. She shrugged a silent what? and began gathering her own things, preparing to leave.

  Jericho smiled to himself as he followed Hyatt out into the hall.

  “Kim? Where the hell is Collins?” Buchanan shouted through the closed door of his office to his secretary outside. He sat slumped in his chair, staring at the surface of his desk, idly drumming his hands on it to a random tune.

  He had just finished up a call with Jericho, who was about to step onto the jet with Fisher, Hyatt, and Hyatt’s client, heading for the port in Halifax. He agreed with Jericho’s assessment of the situation, instructing him to check in the moment they landed and when they reached the port itself.

  He had told Jericho he was trying to reach Collins, to send them some suppo
rt, but it had been almost twenty-four hours, and every attempt had been unsuccessful. His cell phone was turned off, so they couldn’t even track him via GPS. Like it or not, Collins was off the grid—much to Buchanan’s displeasure. He had ordered his secretary to keep trying, but his patience was now wearing thin.

  On top of that, he was expecting another call in the next five minutes from his liaison in Cambodia, with an update on the investigation surrounding the death of an entire GlobaTech unit.

  Buchanan had admired Josh Winters a great deal, but it wasn’t until he had stepped into his shoes that he truly appreciated how good the man was at his job.

  The office door opened, and Kim appeared, leaning on the handle as she stuck her head inside the room. Her brow was creased with pressure.

  “You have an intercom, you know?” she said tersely. “There’s no need to yell.”

  Buchanan looked at her, moving only his eyes, so he was staring through his eyebrows. His hard expression said more than any words could.

  Kim glanced away, giving herself a moment to regain some professional courtesy. “Maybe we’ll… ah… look at how that works later.”

  “Still no luck reaching Collins?” he asked her, happy to ignore what he knew was never intended to be disrespectful.

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. His phone is still turned off.”

  “Shit. Okay, keep trying, would you?”

  She nodded. “Of course. But Mr. Buchanan, if I may…”

  An intermittent beeping filled the room, interrupting her. The large monitor opposite flashed into life, and the words INCOMING CALL appeared on the screen.

  Buchanan reached for the remote. Kim turned to leave.

  “Could you stay for this please?” he called to her.

  “Ah, sure. But isn’t this confidential? Like, above my paygrade confidential, I mean?”

  He smiled. “Well, first of all, I set your paygrade, so let me worry about that. Second of all, you’re the secretary to the director, so there’s very little of what I do you can’t see. But third of all…” He paused, taking a slow, calming breath. “I’ve got a lot going on. A lot of balls in the air. This is important, and I don’t want to miss anything. I would feel better if you took some notes, to make sure I catch everything I’m about to be told.”